


Another Dance

by delorita



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2012-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 22:44:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delorita/pseuds/delorita





	Another Dance

A/N: Written for this prompt at [](http://worththewounds.livejournal.com/profile)[**worththewounds**](http://worththewounds.livejournal.com/) : All right - you know how, on the first night the boys spend with the gypsies in France, Watson gets a bit carried away with all the drinking and dancing and revelry? London and Mary and his nice, respectable life are awfully far away, and there's nothing like a WHOLE LOT of wine (or whatever) to loosen one's inhibitions a bit.  
So... in the dark, once the dancing is over, he makes love to Holmes the way he's always wanted to. Unfortunately for Holmes, he doesn't remember anything in the morning.*sniff*  


Disclaimer: I don’t own them and don’t make an money with this.  
Thanks for the beta go to [](http://nodbear.livejournal.com/profile)[**nodbear**](http://nodbear.livejournal.com/) :D

Changing First Person POV

+++

_Watson’s POV_

„My dearest Holmes.“ I can’t help but whisper in the dark, letting my fingers glide across the sleeping figure. My mouth is almost pressed against his ear. He huffs in his sleep, turning towards me, almost snuggling into my chest. I hold my breath and try to move away. The wine is clearly clouding my senses but not as much as I wish it would.

My poor body is wide awake. Wide awake and yearning. Yearing for the man in front of me. Yearning for the man I have shared half of my life with until a few days ago.

How could I have denied this so long?

Why did I marry?

“Watson…” Holmes’ hand is searching on the thin bed sheet, searching for me…

I try to pull back further but the agile fingers already grab my vest.

“Watson.” He repeats under his breath and pulls me closer with both hands. Of course he’s not asleep.

“John.”

I crumble. I melt. He never calls me John.

He clearly must have had too much wine or raw spirits, or whatever the hell that drink was, too. His voice sounds slurred and giggly.

“John, please.”

Oh, God help me! He’s begging now. His slender fingers working with my vest buttons in the darkness. His mouth so close to mine. So close to not leave any doubt where this will lead.

I can’t.

“Love me, John.”

A shudder wrecks my whole body. He’d never say something like this if he were master of his senses.

But, dear God, I want to. Have wanted to for years.

His fingers are on the buttons of my shirt, fumbling them open and I give in and lean over him. Finally, finally tangling my fingers into his wild locks, trying to look into those chocolate orbs.

He rubs his body against mine. Wanton. Lustful. Pressing his hands onto my buttocks.

I do not want to resist anymore.

I want this.

I want him.

No matter how forbidden and dangerous that might be.

I press my mouth against his and he moans.

I press my whole body weight onto him and he groans.

His hands are all over me and his lips open beneath mine, inviting me in, opening up for me.

His tongue teasing, curling around mine, gently sucking it into his mouth.

I am like butter in his hands. I let my tongue invade his luscious mouth, caressing his, putting all the deep love I have felt for him into our first kiss.

I feel his erection grow along mine as our kiss increases in power and strength. He bucks upwards into me and I grind down blindly, all rational senses gone.

“Not…not like this..” He breaks the kiss and shoves me away slightly. I am puzzled and panting but I see him smile warmly at me, holding my collar with one hand. He slips his fingers beneath my shirt, sliding it off my shoulder. I take the hint and do the same with his. Revealing his bare skin sends tremors through my body and I bend and without thinking lick a broad, wet stripe from his waistband up towards his scruffy chin.

Holmes makes a cat like noise and mirrors the action on my skin. I sound absolutely similar when I purr with utter pleasure.

His fingers are on my groin, hesitantly brushing across the straining bulge there. I almost jump in shock when I feel his thumb stroke across my still covered cock head. “Holmes!”

Fireworks start off behind my eyelids.

I know what I want to do to him. Have wanted to do to him for years. I know what bodies are capable of when they are stimulated the right way…have tried it myself, so desperate have I been for him. It works, if the body is willing.

“Stop thinking, John.” Holmes whispers and guides my hands onto his arousal. Touching him there is the most wonderful thing I have ever done. He is rock hard and so am I.

He slides his hands beneath the waist band of my trousers and I instinctively do the same with his. Within a few moments all our clothes are gone.

We stare at each other in the moonlight and I am not sure if he actually says this or if I only imagine his, “Make love to me,” while he spreads his legs wide.

I blink and swallow, my palms get sweaty and my erection strains towards him.

He is pure, living beauty to me and I so want to follow his request.

Holmes reaches sideways and presses a pot into my hand. Then he does the most unexpected thing I can ever think off. He smears the oily, greasy stuff onto his middle and index finger and then slowly, gently circles his rear entry, dipping the tip of his middle finger slightly into it.

I gasp and almost come from the sheer eroticism of that and I utter stupidly, “I…Holmes…I …”

“Shhhh.” Is the only sound he makes when he slides his finger further inside.

I finally snap into action. He must have wanted this as much as I wanted it. He must have done his research just as throughout as for a case.

“Let me.” I finally find my voice too and I shuffle as close as I can, kneel behind him, let my own slicked up fingers play around his hole. He pulls his digit out and spreads his buttocks as far apart as he can.

I feel so so much anticipation as my finger presses against the tight muscle, but it lets me in almost easily.

I can glimpse a wicked little grin on his face in the moonlight and it occurs to me that he must have practised this.

“Oh Sherlock…” I utter affectionately but he just shakes his head while he groans as he presses himself further onto my finger.

The heat is intoxicating. My cock twitches and so does his. “Holmes?” I say hesitantly and he nods at that, grabbing for my wrist and pressing my finger fully in, hissing a very lustful, “yessss”

He pulls me up towards him with his free hand and starts to kiss me vigorously, hungrily, consuming my whole self. While doing so he bends himself in half beneath me and guides my body where he wants it so desperately to be.

When the tip of my cock brushes his prepared hole my eyes fly open to look straight into his. We never break the kiss for questions but his body and his glance give me permission to do what I had dreamed of, what he apparently had dreamed of himself.

Penetrating him makes me shudder and shake with the utmost intensity. This isn’t just about our bodies’ pleasure. This is about the unbelievable trust he shows me in this, giving himself over so completely, a man who never allows anyone to see his private emotions.

He breaks the kiss to whisper my name again, one hand on the back of my neck and the other sliding down my back and onto my arse.

“I love you.” I need to say it and he closes his eyes. His body does something to let me in more fully. My member is surrounded by moist heat and velvety tightness and I almost can’t breathe. I want to stay like this forever. Never let go of him, always stay connected in such an intimate way. I start to move slowly and he sighs blissfully, encouraging me with little lustful noises, his palms sweaty on my skin, sliding in circles across my shoulder blades and spine.

I feel his erection between our bodies bumping against my stomach. I follow my instinct and grab for it, my fingers still slick from before. It is smooth and hot, twitching in my fist.

“Oh John,” he is breathing, arching his head back, exposing his throat to my mouth and my gently nipping teeth. My last shreds of conscious thought leave me when I am fully buried inside of him and he clutches his inner muscles around my pulsing shaft. I am a highly sensitive strung bow, like the one for his Stradivarius. He’s playing me just like his instrument and I want it, I need it.

I live for it.

“Mine…my John.” Holmes is panting and then comes in rivulets that splash up towards our chins, his tight channel contracting violently, rocking my world.

I stare into his eyes. I have not seen so much love for me in Mary’s expression as I see in his in this very moment and that unbelievable wave of pleasure consumes me at once.

We crash our mouths together and all the words we never were able to say are poured into that kiss, all the emotions we were always good at hiding from each other melt us together in this moment.

++++

_Holmes’ POV_

Stupid.

Simply stupid.

I knew what would happen but I carried out my plan anyway.

I had to do it.

I wanted to feel my dear Watson inside of me once. Just once to save it for eternity.

I feel empty now, even more so then before.

He really loves me, desires me deeply but thinks it is inappropriate when he is not drunk and drugged.

He looks at me curiously now, still waiting for my answer as to why he woke naked in my bed. I had cleaned the evidence of our lovemaking before he joined the land of the living again.

I clench the pleasurably sore muscles of my inner channel, about to say something of the truth but I decide that this moment is not the right one. We have work to do and a case to solve.

“You got a bit carried away and spilled a whole bottle of wine onto yourself and onto my shirt as well.” I gesture at my bare torso. I am glad I had managed to put my trousers on before he opened his beautiful eyes.

He makes a little embarrassed, “Oh,” sound and I hold out a fresh shirt to him. He smiles thankfully at me.

It is hard to be my old self again and not being able to reach out and touch that luscious body, caress his moustache.

I sigh and turn. Some other time. For certain.

“Now hurry, my dear Watson, breakfast and a case are waiting.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and slip out of the door.

F I N 


End file.
